TheBee
by WrittenSword
Summary: A photo shoot in summer. Miranda/Andrea vignette. Femslash! No bees were harmed in the writing of this fic!


A/N: A very random little vignette... Don't even ask me... :P I needed to get it out and it only took two hours to write. Not beta'd, sorry about any mistakes and such!

**The Bee  
**by kendokuschi

It was the middle of July and the _RUNWAY_ staff was at a photo shoot beside a beautiful New Jersey lake; production trailers were parked spread-out along the shore and large parasols lined a path down to the water. The midday air stood still as heat rose from the earth where the sun struck hard. Beads of sweat rolled down Andy's spine, tickling her burning skin on their long-winded path to her underwear, and her bangs stuck uncomfortably to her forehead. The warmth radiating from the ground seemed to intensify the sounds of nature, while drowning out the chatter of the models and crew.

Cicadas sang in an unstoppable chorus from the tall grasses all around them and the soft licking of shallow waves against the rocky beach taunted Andy with its enticing offer of coolness. She wished she could just get up from her chair in the unhelpful shade and jump into the water, clothes and all. As she went over the notes in her lap the sound of an agitated pen scraping across paper reminded her of the close proximity of her boss. Andy allowed a deep sigh and resisted the urge to wipe at her forehead. Continuing her work she tried to bask in her surroundings. Hot or not, at least it was better than the stuffy office back in Manhattan. A soft buzzing around her head helped her to grasp the feeling of summer and hold onto the tiny bit of it she was allowed to enjoy.

Bees had always fascinated Andy, from an early age on. She wasn't particularly fond of insects in general, but bees had always held something special. Often misunderstood and feared by people for their painful sting, they intrigued Andy, and as a child she had spent many summer days studying the fuzzy little beasts as they went about their task of pollination. She had been stung several times in her life, and although it had hurt, she had never felt a grudge against the tiny animals. She had chastised herself for intruding and spooking the yellow and black insects instead of blaming them for only following instincts. Such was Andy's nature.

So it was always with a sense of confusion and slight anger when she witnessed other people strike out at wayward bees and throwing folded newspapers and obscenities at the small animals, as was happening right now.

Andy's head jerked up from her notebook at the terrified squeak from a nearby model. Alerted by the commotion, soon other malnourished women jumped from the camping chairs, where they had just been undergoing their transformation for the wildlife-themed fall shoot, and started to wildly wave their hands at the tiny bee in their midst. The hair stylist honored his flamboyancy and dashed off into the direction of one of the trailers, his arms flailing as he released a high-pitched scream.

Miranda, the magazine's editor-in-chief, let out an exasperated sigh without looking up from the stack of proofs in her lap, and then spoke in her generally icy voice, which however failed to bring any relief on this scorching day, "You better all have suffered a heat stroke. I cannot possibly think of another reason why you would create such a ruckus when _some of us_, are trying to work."

Andy had to smirk. Her boss was really something else, the way she sat stoically in the folding chair, with her flowing silver bob, and in her white dress and Prada wedges, seemingly unfazed by the heat. Not a trace of sweat or discomfort as she rigorously left notes on the photographs in her hands. Miranda Priestly was the personification of grace and beauty for Andy, and not unlike bees, where other people feared her, Andy felt intrigued and thoroughly fascinated.

The scolded models quietly resumed their quest of chasing away the insect and Andy rolled her eyes at their panic. Swatting at bees only agitated them and Andy secretly hoped that the tiny animal in question would catch one of the models and sting her good. The women moved closer and under the parasol Andy shared with her boss; their hurried feet disturbing little dust particles and creating additional noise that would likely draw Miranda's wrath.

As if on cue, the older woman's hand shot up in her usual, dismissive wave, finger's flicking out in annoyance. It was a gesture often directed at Andy and she enjoyed watching it from afar for a change. All of a sudden Miranda retracted her arm with a surprised yelp, clutching her left hand to her chest. The models stood frozen and in shock, watching silently as the editor inspected her palm with a painful expression on her face.

Within less than a second Andy was by the older woman's side, kneeling in the sand before her and reaching for the injured hand. Miranda tried to pull away like an indignant child, but Andy's grasp was firm.

"The sting is still inside," she explained before turned the editor's wrist for better access. The skin on the base of Miranda's left thumb was already reddening and Andy leaned closer to expertly pinch the stinger between the nails of her thumb and middle finger and pull it out.

"There. You're not allergic, are you?" She asked as she scrutinised the punctured area. Miranda didn't answer and Andy looked up at the older woman's pale face.

"Miranda?"

She could feel her boss begin to tremble and the cold tendrils of panic suddenly shot up her neck. Why had she not known that Miranda was allergic to bees? Wasn't that the task of an assistant? Was this a pride issue about the editor not wishing to give away her weaknesses?

"EpiPen?"

Slowly Miranda shook her head, eyes still fastened on the hand that lay lifelessly in Andy's soft grasp.

Andy felt the adrenaline catapult her pulse to frightening speeds and she realised that she needed to act quickly.

"You," she pointed at one of the stagnant models. "Rush to that trailer and get the First Aid case. Move!"

The young woman startled and ran off as Andy addressed the other two.

"Phone 911 and tell them we have a case of 'anaphylaxis'." Puzzled faces stared back at her and she grunted in frustration. "An allergic reaction to a bee sting! Go!"

The two women were reluctant to move and Andy's emotions got the better of her. "For christ's sake, if she dies I will kill you!"

That had the models running and Andy could concentrate back on Miranda. The older woman looked docile and just gazed back at Andy with lips parted from shock and small trickles of sweat slowly running from her temples. Through her panic Andy was thoroughly endeared.

"Miranda, this might hurt a little, but it will help."

The editor only blinked and Andy brought the palm in question to her face. There was a shaky gasp as her lips closed around inflamed skin and when she began sucking hard on the small wound, Miranda tried to jerk her hand away.

"Andrea... what do you think you're doing?" She hissed, chest heaving and surprise widening her blue eyes.

"I'm seducing you with my skillful tongue and lips." She scoffed back at the editor, frustrated with the older woman's constant need for distance and etiquette. "What do you _think_ I'm doing, Miranda? I'm sucking out the poison! Saving your life!"

Her gaze never leaving the subtly blushing older woman, Andy pulled the editor's hand back and resumed her treatment. Every few sucks she spit to the floor and then planted her lips back around the puncture wound. She kept looking into Miranda's eyes, effectively locking her in place. Soon she only tasted blood and she tried to ignore the effect it had on her abdomen.

The cicadas kept on singing, bathing her and the older woman in a surreal ocean of sound, that forced both their eyes to close while she kept on sucking. The heat became overwhelming and Andy breathed heavily through her nose as she swiped her tongue against the bruised flesh, soothing the wound and writing Miranda's slight shiver to memory. If the situation did not have the severe potential of being lethal, it would be utterly arousing.

Luckily the first model finally returned with the First Aid case and Andy released Miranda's palm to search for an EpiPen. As luck had it Andy found what she was looking for and quickly unscrewed the yellow cap of the container. She removed the safety cap and then, having the intelligence to slide up the hem of Miranda's expensive designer dress, pushed the pen hard into the editor's creamy thigh.

Miranda's gasp travelled deliciously down her spine and mingled in the pit of her stomach with the earlier sensations of tasting the editor's skin and blood. Her boss was visibly relaxing and suddenly Andy's position of kneeling before the older woman's exposed thighs sunk in, and she released the pen, sheepishly pulled down Miranda's dress and stood.

"Uhm..." She was at a loss for words. She knew that sometimes adrenaline could empower people to act beyond their reservations; such was the magic of the survival instinct. All of a sudden Andy felt self-conscious about effectively french-kissing the palm of her boss. Especially since now Miranda pinned her down with an intense glare that could have seared whole forests.

She turned around and bent down to pick up the discarded container as the other two women returned with cellphones in hand.

"The doctor's on his way. He said it will take at least thirty minutes."

Andy sighed, she knew she should be grateful that there even was a doctor in their proximity, but she internally cursed at the prospect of having to stay around Miranda for another half hour without the chance to cool off or compose herself.

Without looking directly at her boss she grabbed some fallen photos off the sand and handed them back to Miranda, before stashing away the used EpiPen and closing the First Aid case.

"Uhm, thanks guys, you can go now." She nodded at the models who had awkwardly stood at a safe distance from the editor and now trotted off in relief. She then gathered her own notebook and pen and sat back down in her chair. Sweat was freely running down her throat and into her decollete and she self-consciously wiped at it, feeling the distinct force of Miranda's glare still burning into her.

Somehow the sound of her own breathing was unnerving, heat buzzed in her ears and the cicadas now appeared exceptionally loud. She desperately wished for some wind, a small breeze, anything to cool her off. She felt sticky, dirty and like her heart would explode under the older woman's scrutiny.

As if pulled by magnetic forces she raised her head to take a peek in Miranda's direction and found the editor staring back at her, chin perched on her fingers, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. Andy knew she was going to die there and then, but her boss made it worse by elegantly rising from the chair, without traces of any lingering weakness after her near-death experience, and strode confidently the short distance across the sand.

She stopped in front of Andy, whose chest was now rising and falling heavily, the anxiety and humidity of the day making it difficult to breathe. Miranda looked flawless, radiant. Like the untouchable Snow Queen that could effortlessly withstand any heatwave. The single strand of silver that ever so slightly stuck to her forehead, astray from the rest of her typical forelock, did nothing to disturb the image of perfection, and as the older woman leaned down Andy knew that if she could only reach out to brush away the hair, her life would be complete and she could die a peaceful death.

A surprisingly cool hand made contact with Andy's knee and began to brush away the sand from the bare skin. The younger woman had to blink to realise that her boss was touching her. No, not simply touching her, but wiping off the dirt she had so carelessly knelt in just minutes ago when she had feared for Miranda's life. She was extremely conscious of the fact that her dress was short, and beside the silk string she wasn't wearing anything else underneath.

Once both of Andy's knees were clean Miranda leaned forward and hovered close to the younger woman's ear.

"Thank you."

Andy swallowed hard as the soft whisper caressed her damp neck and she felt goosebumps explode all over her arms.

"Thank you, for 'seducing me with your skillful tongue and lips'."

When the editor pulled away she licked her lips and regarded Andy with a final burning look, before turning around and walking back to her chair where she picked up her work.

Andy was drenched from sweat and arousal, and her heart was hammering violently. She was on fire and she feared she would never feel cool again. The cicadas seemed to mock her in chorus, their song nearly painful to her oversensitive ears.

She chanced a look in Miranda's direction and was instantly mesmerised as she watched the older woman bring her injured palm to her mouth and gently suck on it while closing her eyes, as if fondly remembering Andy's lips and tongue on her skin. The gesture made Andy clench in specific areas of her body and the tension made her accidentally snap her pen in half. The sound pulled Miranda out of her bliss and Andy felt herself blush so violently that she was surprised that her face wasn't literally on fire.

No longer able to resist, and in urgent need of a cold shower, she jumped off her chair and bolted through the sand down toward the water. Not minding the splatters that drenched the bottom of her dress she waded deeper until she was thigh-deep, the cool liquid slowly soothing her agitated skin.

She no longer cared what Miranda might think of her. The disturbances she had created with her jolt into the lake now gently rolled against the rocky shore, calming her nerves with their serene trickles. From here the cicadas' song was much less loud and Andy could finally take a deep breath.

She wasn't sure whether or not she should thank the poor bee who had lost its life taking on Miranda Priestly. It certainly made the otherwise boring day extremely interesting and Andy wondered if the editor had been serious or simply under the influence of the epinephrine.

The soft calling of her name offered a possibility to find out.

"Andrea."

She turned and found Miranda standing by the shore, an amused expression on her face. A medical technician was at her side looking puzzled, his eyes questioning Andy.

"Andrea, when you are done playing around, you will accompany me to the clinic."

It wasn't a request as much as it was an order, but there was something different, and... gentle... in Miranda's voice and it clutched at the younger woman's heart. Andy nodded and waded out of the water.

"Yes, Miranda."

-

The End.


End file.
